Samantha’s Cowboy (4 page)

“A can of coffee and a pouch of tobacco would probably suffice.”

“After you.” Wade swept his arm out in front of him.

Sam followed Millicent, the big geek and the little geek trailing behind.

W
ADE WISHED HE’D NEVER
suggested a drive in the country this morning. He’d rather be in his comfortable, air-conditioned condo reading Friday’s
Wall Street
Journal
instead of tromping through prickly weeds in ninety-degree heat while an old granny poked the ground with a tree branch. He doubted any psychic could detect a drop of moisture in this mini dust bowl. Another gust of wind blew dirt in his face, forcing him to remove his glasses and wipe them against his shirt.

The water witch stopped beneath a tree and stared up the trunk. “What’s wrong?” he asked, impatient to end the hoax.

Luke peered at Wade through dusty glasses. “Millicent’s looking for a stick.”

Wade removed his son’s glasses, cleaned them off, then handed them back. “Won’t any stick do?” he asked Samantha. The old biddy had a habit of ignoring him.

Samantha leaned near and whispered, “A willow or peach tree switch works best for dowsing.” The scent of honeysuckle drifted up Wade’s nose, distracting him. He decided the sweet smell came from Samantha’s shampoo.

“Is that a peach tree?” Wade curled his fingers into a fist to keep from touching Samantha’s dark hair, which glistened beneath the hot sun.

Before Samantha had answered his question, Millicent spoke. “This here’s the one.” The granny pointed to a branch five feet above the gray bun on her head, then settled her rheumy eyes on Wade. “Don’t stand there, ya dope, climb up ’n fetch me that twig.”

Was she nuts? Wade glanced at Samantha. The last time he’d climbed a tree he’d fallen on his ass in front of a teenage girl. This time he was a grown man. The teenager was a beautiful woman. And he’d probably land on his ass again.

“I’ll get it,” Samantha volunteered.

Aw, hell.
He studied his leather loafers—his treadless weekend shoes—and silently cursed. “Wait.” He stepped in front of Samantha and searched the tree trunk for a foothold.

“If I give you a shove, you’ll be able to grab that lower limb.” Samantha inched closer.

Although he liked the idea of Samantha’s hands on his rump, with his luck her hold would slip and catch him in the nuts and he’d land at her feet curled up in a ball of misery. “I’m too heavy.”

“What about me, Dad? I can reach the branch.”

To Wade’s knowledge, his son had never climbed a tree in his life. “I don’t—”

“Hoist the boy onto yer shoulders.” Millicent glared at Wade, daring him to defy her.

“Luke’s never—”

“Give him a chance, Wade.” Samantha grasped his arm, her gaze imploring. He appreciated that she stuck up for his son, but it was the pleading expression on Luke’s face that tore at Wade. Climbing a tree was an adventure, the kind Luke read about in books but had never experienced. “Be careful.”

Luke’s grin went straight to Wade’s heart. “I won’t get hurt, I promise.”

Throat tight, Wade stood aside while Samantha gave his son a crash course on the dos and don’ts of tree climbing. Then she bent at the waist and cupped her hands. Luke placed his foot in the hold and Samantha hoisted him high enough to seize a lower branch.

“Now step on my shoulder, Luke,” she instructed.

“Here.” Wade offered his shoulder. When Luke pulled himself onto a thick branch that held his weight,
Wade released his legs. As he lowered his arms, Wade’s hand brushed Samantha’s breast and she sucked in a quiet breath. “I’m—”

“Dad, I did it!” Luke’s shout saved Wade from an embarrassing apology.

“Hold tight!” Out of the corner of Wade’s eye he noticed Samantha’s rosy cheeks. Darn it. The blunder had happened quickly, leaving only a sensation of softness lingering on his fingertips.

“Git that branch to yer right.” A craggy voice ordered.

Luke touched the limb Millicent indicated. “That’s the one, boy. Snap it off cleanlike.”

“I can’t,” Luke complained after several attempts to break the branch.

“Twirl it one way, then the other fer a bit.”

“What about a different branch?” Wade raised his arms ready to catch Luke should his son lose his balance.

“Nope. Gotta have that one.”

Face scrunched in determination, Luke fought the branch until his glasses slipped off his nose and fell to the ground.

Samantha scooped them up.

Time to end the adventure. Luke was blind without his glasses. “That’s enough, son. Lean over and I’ll catch you.”

“No, Dad. I can do this. I promise.”

“Quit pesterin’ the boy.” Millicent glared.

“Give him a little bit longer, Wade. He’s almost got it,” Samantha said.

Wade wasn’t used to being ganged up on. Luke was
so far out of his element not even his brilliant mind would save him if he made one wrong move. A moment later…

“I did it!” Luke shouted, swaying sideways on the limb as he waved the switch above his head.

“Sit still, afore ya fall on yer face.”

Luke handed the branch to Millicent, who inspected her dowsing tool with great care, then pronounced, “This’ll do,” and walked off.

“Roll onto your stomach and lower your legs while hanging on to the limb,” Samantha said.

His son followed her instructions, then Wade grabbed him around the waist. “Let go.” He lowered Luke to the ground. Samantha handed over the eyeglasses and as soon as Luke put them on he tore after Millicent.

“Guess my son’s a better tree climber than his father.” Wade smiled sheepishly. He expected at least a murmur of agreement from Samantha, not a blank stare.

“You don’t remember, do you?” he asked.

“Remember what?”

“You challenged me to a tree-climbing contest at the Lazy River Ranch when you were in high school and I was in college. I fell out of the tree and broke my arm. You called me a wimp.”

Her beautiful eyes widened, then without a word she spun and walked off.

She really doesn’t remember me.

Darn it. Wade refused to drop the tree-climbing incident.

Okay. Years ago he’d fallen out of a tree and had broken his arm while visiting the Cartwright ranch.
Big deal.

Sam stomped toward the barn, the nerdy financial investor dogging her boot heels. Her memory lapse had bruised Wade’s ego, confirming her suspicion that the man hadn’t heard about her near-death experience with a horse. If she had her way, he’d remain in the dark about that period in her life. She feared if he learned she suffered lingering effects from the head trauma, he’d alert her father and attempt to put a stop to her plans for the Peterson homestead. And she for darn sure didn’t care for Wade’s pity—she’d been on the receiving end of enough sympathetic stares to last a lifetime.

Mr. Financial Adviser exasperated and intrigued Sam. Wade was a nice change from her brother’s rodeo friends and the roughnecks who worked on her father’s oil rigs. An aura of sophistication surrounded Wade. His neatly styled hair, clean, crisp dress shirts and sexy cologne stirred her as no other man ever had.

Good grief, Sam. Wade has a son, which means he’s married and off-limits.
Besides, converting this property into a horse ranch was her first priority. There would be time later for setting her sights on a man to share her life and dreams with.

She skirted the corner of the barn, Wade following as he swatted at a black fly buzzing his head. She swallowed a chuckle.
Next time don’t wear cologne.
Better yet he should stay in his corporate office and let her deal with the property renovations.

“Ya see the best chance o’ findin’ water is with a fresh-cut switch. Ya got to have a fork in the branch like a Y shape or it’s bad luck.”

“How does the stick find the water?” Luke asked.

“It jest knows.”

“A stick can’t just know,” Luke argued. “There’s gotta be a scientific reason for the twig’s power.”

“Don’t know nothin’ ’bout science. Jest magic.”

The boy gaped. “You have magical powers?”

“Some folks calls me a water witch.”

Luke shrugged. “You do kinda look like a witch. You’re old and you have lots of wrinkles.”

Sam smothered a smile behind her hand. Little Einstein was honest if nothing else.

“Years o’ pickin’ sugar beets and beans in the sun give me a face full o’ lines.”

“But you’re not mean like the witches I read about in books.”

“Enough talk about witches, Luke.” Wade’s comment earned him a glower from Millicent.

“Tell me how the stick finds water.” Luke slid his glasses up his nose.

“The stick don’t. I finds the water.” Millicent closed her eyes and said, “First, I quiet my mind.”

“Don’t your eyes have to be open to see?”

“Shush now, boy. I sees everythin’ in my head.” No one moved, then Millicent whispered, “I’m searchin’ fer an ol’ time well made o’ stone with a windlass fer haulin’ water a bucketful at a time.”

Shielding his eyes from the sun’s glare, Luke scanned the horizon, looking for a well that was visible only in Millicent’s mind.

“Once I sees the well I gots to approach with care.” The old woman stood frozen, eyes closed, arms stretched before her. After a moment she walked off, veering left of the barn. Luke hurried to catch up. Wade followed his son and Sam traipsed after Wade, content to breathe in his sexy scent.

Millicent stopped and extended the dowsing stick. Waited. Then reversed direction. Eyes closed, she moved farther away from the barn. Twenty yards later she stopped again—the forked end of the stick quivered, then dropped toward the ground at her feet.

“Did she find water?” Wade inched closer and Sam noticed gold flecks in his brown eyes. The man had a habit of invading her personal space—an odd thing for a married man to do.

“I believe so.” Sam glanced at Wade’s left hand and noticed his bare ring finger. Which meant nothing. Lots of married men refused to wear rings.

Bending over, Millicent tugged fistfuls of grass from the earth. Luke dropped to his knees and helped. Once the bare dirt had been exposed, Millicent patted the ground. “Here.” She pressed Luke’s palm to the spot.
“Feel that?” Then she moved the boy’s hand to another area. “Feel that?”

“This one’s cooler.” Luke returned his hand to the first spot.

“Water under the ground makes the dirt cold,” Millicent explained.

Sam ignored Wade’s eye roll and asked, “How far down do you think the water is?”

“Sixty feet.”

Millicent’s claim lured a snort from Wade. Typical geek—always demanding evidence to back up facts.

“Dad. You gotta feel this,” Luke said. “Millicent’s right. The ground’s colder here—” he patted the earth “—than over there.”

Wade surprised Sam when he did as his son requested. Brow furrowed, Wade squatted and pressed his palm to the ground, drawing Sam’s attention to his hand. Her mind wandered along a path of its own as her eyes followed the movement of his lean fingers, imagining them stroking her skin, palming her breast, touching her…
there
.

Wade stood, then slapped at the dust on his hands, the sound ending Sam’s fantasy. “Are you sure there’s water?” he asked Millicent.

“Ya callin’ me a liar?” The old woman waved the switch in the air and Sam feared she intended to smack Wade with the branch.

“A sixty-foot hole can’t be that difficult to dig.” Wade studied the ground.

“Oh, no,” Sam said. “You’re not—”

Wade’s gaze shifted from the ground to Sam’s face. “Why pay a drilling company over a hundred thousand dollars when we can dig the well ourselves?”

“We?”
Sam had no intention of shoveling dirt. There were too many other items on her to-do list that needed to be tackled.

“Yes, you and me,” Wade confirmed.

Luke jumped up and down. “I can help, too!”

“What do you say?” Wade’s eyes lit with excitement. If playing in the dirt thrilled the man this much, then he needed a vacation from his job.

Hating to see the boy get his hopes up, Sam said, “I doubt your mom would want you to risk getting hurt, Luke.”

“My mom won’t care. Besides I spend most of my time with my dad.”

Confused, Sam glanced at Wade and he said, “Luke’s mom and I are divorced.”

That explained the absence of a ring, but not the twitter of excitement that raced through Sam. Her gaze traveled over Wade’s body. “You’re not exactly the well-digging type.” The sparkle dimmed in his eyes and Sam cursed herself for being blunt, then shrugged off her concern—no way would a man like Wade care what she thought of him. “I’m not worried about saving money,” she insisted. “Now that Millicent located the water, the drilling company should be able to dig and cap the well in less than a day.”

“Permits take time,” he argued.

“Not that long. I’ll phone the owner of the company and ask if they can squeeze—”

“You said you didn’t want your father learning about this ranch until you’d whipped it into shape. How will you keep the news from him if you hire professionals?”

Why hadn’t Sam considered this complication
before? As soon as the drilling company learned the client was a Cartwright they’d contact her father. No one dug a hole anywhere in Oklahoma without Dominick Cartwright being informed.

“C’mon, Samantha. People dug wells by hand all the time in the olden—” Wade glanced at Millicent.

“Watch yerself,” the witch warned.

“I’ll research how to dig a well,” Luke chimed in.

Sam nibbled her lip, unsure how to proceed.

“Please,” Luke begged.

Wade’s son was so darned cute she hadn’t the heart to upset him. Once her father flew off to Europe, she’d be free to contact a drilling company if the do-it-yourself well-digging project came to a standstill. “Fine. Let’s begin digging next Sunday.”

“Why not Saturday?” Wade asked.

“My brother’s wedding is Saturday.” Hadn’t she mentioned Matt’s wedding to Wade? “We’ll meet here bright and early Sunday morning.”

“It’s a date,” Wade confirmed.

A date?
She supposed digging a well was about as exciting a date as any for a nerd.

“U
NCLE
C
HARLES
, I
ASSURE YOU
this is no snafu,” Wade argued over the telephone Monday evening. After three days of leaving voice mails and text messages, the man had finally surfaced.

“Now, Wade—”

He hated when his uncle used that tone with him—as if Wade was a ten-year-old boy.

“Have my secretary—”

Veronica the airhead.

“—check with our systems analyst. The man’s sharp as a whip.”

Implying Wade was not. “I’ve already put a call in to the man.”

“Good. He’ll fix the commuter glitch and you’ll be fine.” His uncle congratulated his golf partner on a nice putt, then resumed the conversation. “My boy, if you’re hoping for a vice president position you’ll have to prove you’re capable of handling a crisis on your own.”

“Aren’t you the least interested in learning which client’s money is missing?” His uncle hadn’t asked, making Wade suspicious. He couldn’t believe his uncle would intentionally tamper with a client’s portfolio unless the old man intended to put Wade through some kind of test before offering a promotion.

“I trust you to handle the situation.”

Even though his uncle professed to be proud of Wade’s accomplishments, Wade suspected the man was irritated that his nephew had ended up working for Dawson Investments and not his son, Jarrod, who’d shocked the family with his marriage to Richard. The happy couple lived in California and rarely kept in touch with the family.

“When do you intend to return to the office?” Wade asked.

“Not for a while. I’m heading to Dubai after I leave Scotland.”

The firm had no clients in Dubai. Maybe his uncle hoped to land an account there. They’d need a new client or two or three, not to mention a good lawyer if Dawson Investments was held responsible for Samantha Cartwright’s missing millions. “I’ll keep you posted on what the systems analyst says.”

“Don’t do anything rash, young man.”
Click.

Wade scrutinized his reflection in the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of his condo and wondered if his uncle would ever view him as anything other than the needy kid he’d been forced to take in upon his sister’s death. Wade doubted he’d ever earn enough points with his uncle to gain forgiveness for whatever sins his mother had committed against the family. Maybe it was time he stop trying.

“Look, Dad.” Luke waltzed into the living room and spread an assortment of papers on the coffee table. “Instructions on how to dig a well.” After visiting Samantha’s property, his son had spent hours researching information on water witches, dowsing and digging wells the old-fashioned way—by hand.

“I see you’ve been surfing the Net again,” Wade said.

“Yep.”

Before his son spouted off a million facts and figures, he asked, “Did you check in with your mother?”

For the past year Carmen had neglected the visitation schedule they’d agreed upon in the divorce settlement. Instead of Wade spending weekends with his son, Luke often remained the entire week when Carmen traveled with her new fiancé. Not that Wade complained. He enjoyed spending extra time with his son. He never broached the subject with Luke, but Wade suspected when Carmen married again she’d ask Wade to assume full custody of their son.

“I texted Mom. She said hi.”

Wade doubted Carmen had bothered to send along a greeting, but appreciated that Luke cared about his father’s feelings. “Okay, let’s see your research.” Wade
sat on the sofa and perused the documents. He’d convinced Samantha that digging a well by hand would be faster and cheaper than hiring professionals. He hoped to hell he’d been right. “Give me the short version, Luke.”

“We dig a round hole four feet across. And you’re supposed to keep checking the sides of the well while you dig to make sure the walls don’t cave in.”

Good point. If he ended up buried beneath a hundred pounds of Oklahoma red clay he’d never locate Samantha’s missing money. “Then what?”

“Once the hole is too deep to toss the shovelful of dirt over the side you have to rig up a bucket system.”

“Does it show a picture?” Wade studied the sketch of the crude pulley system Luke handed him.

“When you hit water,” his son continued, “you have to use a different kind of shovel.”

“Oh?”

“A flat one with a short handle.”

“Anything else?”

“We need a spud bar to pry rocks loose and a clamshell posthole digger.”

Luke droned on about installing casings to prevent the sides of the hole from caving in, but Wade’s mind wandered to Samantha. How could a woman her age and with her beauty still be single?

Was she nursing a broken heart or was she too picky when it came to men? Not that it mattered one way or another. He didn’t stand a chance with her. As much as he admired her beauty and determination he’d have to settle for fantasizing about the oil heiress.

“Can we do it, Dad?”

Luke’s question snapped Wade out of his reverie. “Do what?”

“Dig a well.” His son’s expression mirrored both excitement and doubt.

“We’ll give it our best shot.” Wade didn’t mind getting dirty or working up a sweat, but a handyman he was not. He’d grown up without a male role model to demonstrate how to pound a nail or measure and saw a board. When it had come to fixing a clogged sink or cleaning out the gutters Wade’s uncle had hired a plumber or a yard service company.

The idea Wade might fail bothered him more than he cared to admit. He’d hate to embarrass himself in front of Sam again by bumbling the well-digging project—or worse, ending up in a predicament that required Samantha to rescue him.

“Miss Samantha’s really pretty.”

Had Luke guessed where his father’s thoughts had drifted? “Yes, she is.”

“And she’s really nice.”

Oh, boy.
Luke was developing a crush on the cowgirl—another sign that his son needed more attention from Carmen. Wade suspected Luke would be thrilled if his father and Samantha dated. Wade might be tempted to test the waters with her if he wasn’t already overcommitted—taking care of Luke more days than not while squeezing in sixty-hour work weeks. If those weren’t good enough reasons to avoid a relationship with Samantha, then the firm losing her millions clinched the deal.